


swallow me down

by vipertooths



Series: IASIP [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: (even though he always has an Excuse), (obviously. it's iasip after all.), Caring Mac, Dennis Needs Control (and also to fucking chill), Needy Dennis, Season/Series 13, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: Dennis had lost control of the situation.But he could fix it,wouldfix it, because he was Dennis Reynolds, the Golden God, a master manipulator and owner of one Ronald McDonald's heart.





	swallow me down

**Author's Note:**

> hmm cant believe i wrote macdennis. i was uhh tempted to post this on my Secret Account where i keep anything of dubious morals but fuck it. here it is. enjoy???

Dennis listened with half an ear to the conversation at hand, focusing most of his attention on the space between himself and Mac. He had gone so far today as to wrap a hand around Mac's waist and still received no reciprocation. He had told Mac to stop touching him, and it really could get on his nerves, but he hadn't imagined that Mac would actually _listen_. Sure, Mac still praised him and watched him and clung to his every word, but it wasn't _enough_. He couldn't _count_ on that. As long as Mac couldn't stop touching him, he knew he had Mac securely tethered to his will.

He hadn't considered the idea that Mac had changed at all in his months away. For God's sake, the man was blowing loads into a (hideous) sex doll replica of him. But Mac _had_ changed—obviously, if Dennis hadn't accurately predicted his actions—in some minute way that Dennis couldn't pinpoint. It was this unknown variable that was throwing their entire dynamic out of wack. Dennis had lost control of the situation.

But he could fix it, _would_ fix it, because he was Dennis Reynolds, the Golden God, a master manipulator and owner of one Ronald McDonald's heart.

+

He pulled on one of Mac's shirts that he had nicked the previous night, foregoing the pants, letting the loose shirt hang off of one shoulder. He had skipped his normal beauty routine for the day, knowing that Mac always softened at any perceived vulnerability on Dennis' end, but he couldn't help but to run his hands through his hair a few times before he left his bedroom—which he did about an hour later than he normally would.

Going straight to the couch where Mac was sitting would be too obvious. He had to play it off as a more or less normal day. He walked to the kitchen and got himself a cup of now lukewarm coffee before looking up surreptitiously at the window. In the reflection, he could see he had drawn Mac's attention from the TV and tamped down on his smirk as he turned around. He still didn't give Mac his attention, staring down into his cup between sips, leaning against the counter and letting his friend drink in the sight of his bare legs and exposed collarbones.

After another long sip, he sighed and placed his fingers against his temple. "Do we have any cold meds? I think I'm getting sick." It's wasn't a lie. He _was_ getting sick, but his symptoms were mild.

"Yeah, we should. I'll check." Dennis finally lifted his eyes as Mac pushed himself up and went into the bathroom. There was a minute of rattling sounds as he searched the medicine cabinet and came out empty handed. There was a look of mild concern on his face. "We're all out."

Of course they were out. He'd thrown the bottle in the nearest dumpster while formulating his plan. Dennis deflated slightly and set his half-drunk cup of coffee on the counter and moved to the couch. He sat with his back to the arm, knees pulled up to his chest, putting on a show of looking miserable. He needn't worry about overselling it; Mac was as gullible as they came and Dennis had already established this sort of behavior in the past. He learned that his behavior would always be written off as a side effect of cold or fever or medicine. Mac loved the idea of protecting someone, caring for them, and he was especially pliable when Dennis was sick.

"I'll run out and grab some. Do you need a barf bucket?"

Dennis shook his head and sniffed. "I'll be fine."

He bided his time while Mac was gone thinking about the best angle to approach with when the man returned. The plan was simple: if he got Mac to finally give in again, to remember just how much he _liked_ to touch Dennis, then the dam would break.

When he heard Mac at the door, he kicked off the cocoon of blankets he had nestled in. It had been making him overheated—that was the point—but the sudden temperature difference made him shiver genuinely as Mac approached. Like clockwork, Mac reached a hand out and felt his forehead.

"You have a fever, Den. You should be in bed." He opened the cold medicine and filled the cap before bringing it to Dennis' mouth carefully.

After drinking it, Dennis turned baleful eyes up at his friend. "Can it be your bed?"

Mac hesitated for only a split second before nodding and pulling him up, guiding him to the bedroom that Dennis didn't _actually_ want to be in. He couldn't help but scowl at the heinous bicycle in the corner. "God, Mac, get rid of that thing already."

"It's a perfectly good exercise bike, Dennis."

Dennis rolled his eyes and let himself be manhandled under the covers. He wanted to make a retort about the bike, but there were more urgent matters to attend to. He grabbed onto Mac's wrist and gave a small sniff. "You're not gonna stay?"

Mac glanced toward the door but ultimately crawled into bed too. Dennis turned onto his side and pressed his forehead to Mac's admittedly beefy arm. Not that he'd ever say that aloud.

"You always do this," Mac murmured, eyes closed and body tense.

"Do _what_?" He pulled back to glare, feeling defensive for an accusation he didn't even know the subject of yet.

Mac peeked an eye open at him before sighing and closing it again. "Push me away and then try pulling me back in. It's not fair."

Dennis settled back into place, no longer feeling offended but still a bit miffed that Mac would raise the subject. There was no use denying it; they both knew their cycle. "Try pulling you back in? Are you implying I haven't done it yet?"

"No," Mac answered tersely. "I'm not going to keep doing this."

Pushing down a small spike of panic, he wrapped his arms around Mac's much larger one. "You are."

"I'm _not_."

"You're already in bed with me, Mac," he pointed out. Mac just needed to admit it. Once he admitted it, Dennis would let him go, would stop pretending to be so needy.

Instead, Mac started to pry away from him, clearly with the intent on leaving. Dennis had miscalculated again. The panic became harder to shove back and he held fast to the arm in his grip, digging his fingernails into the skin until Mac hissed and stopped moving. With his muscle mass, he could easily remove Dennis, but he never seemed to consider his own strength. So he stayed, still as a rock and still not reciprocating Dennis' touch.

Dennis changed attacks. "I don't want to argue. I'm sick."

The reminder worked like a charm and he felt Mac's muscles ease some. He was so close, _so close_ to having Mac back right where he wanted.

"Have you been taking your pills, Den?"

The question blindsided him and he flinched. Anger bubbled in his stomach. "What does it fucking matter?"

Mac sighed and turned over, forcing Dennis to withdraw his hand or let it be crushed. He let Mac wrap an arm around his back and draw him in closer, not because he wanted it, not because it actually mollified his anger, but because he needed to. His plan may have hit a few bumps, but it was still going in the right direction. There was just one thing left. He needed Mac to say it, to admit that Dennis still had him.

"When did you get my shirt, anyway?"

"Yesterday. Do you want it back? I can take it off."

Mac shook his head, ignoring the suggestive tone. "Keep it."

"As if I'd _want_ it."

"You should eat something."

Dennis huffed. In his time away, he had almost forgotten how pushy Mac could be about these things. No one else ever cared how much he ate. The second he let Mac leave the bed, he'd be getting food shoved in his face. _That_ wasn't going to happen. He slid his arm around Mac's back to make sure of it.

Mac's thumb brushed back and forth between his shoulder blades, more comforting than he would like to admit. It should have been enough, he should have felt secure. But he needed Mac to _say it_ and he didn't want to sink so low as to _ask_.

They stayed like that for a good ten minutes, nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the soft swipe of thumb against cotton. It was Mac who broke the silence.

"Why'd you tell me to stop touching you if that's not what you want?"

"It _is_ what I want," he answered hotly, though their current positions seemed to undermine him. "Most of the time."

"Just because I stopped clinging to you—which you asked for anyway—doesn't mean I was going to leave you or something."

"I was hardly worried about you _leaving_ , Mac. You've been clinging to me since high school. _I'm_ the one who left," he spat, "or did you forget once you started hauling that repulsive doll around?"

Mac's hand slid up to play with the hair at the nape of Dennis' neck, not seeming phased by the outburst. Dennis' brain wasn't working quick enough to understand _why_ he was letting it happen, but he trusted there was a perfectly good reason that he would remember when he was less muddled with fog and rage. "Of course, I didn't forget. Why do you think I got the doll?"

"Because you're a disgusting human being," he grumbled into Mac's chest.

"Becuase I _missed_ you. It's always going to be you, Den."

It was a full body reaction, the way those words traveled through him, dopamine chasing behind. It was always going to be him. The magic words. He could finally stop clutching onto Mac now. He'd gotten his pathetic reassurance. His plan worked.

He fell asleep there instead.

+

When Mac reached a hand out to his thigh the next day, Dennis casually pushed it away. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> isnt it wild that most of us realize that the gang are evil people who dont actually deserve anything good in their lives.... And Yet.... here we are.... reading and writing fanfic of them. see ya in hell, laddies.
> 
> also if you wanna talk about sunny, hmu @vipertooth on tumblr. i have lots of thots. 0:-)


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